Mistake
by Cat123Ghost456
Summary: Alternate Meeting: Alternate Personality: Trips go wrong all the time, but when things keep going down hill...well, you're going to hit rock bottom at some point. Mistakes, Museums, Madness, Murder, and much more things that start with M. Characters of cartoon exist, but more of a movie personality on characters. WARNING: Violence, Themes, and Insanity.
1. Mistake

**Hey, I'm sort of new here. I've read a few fanfics as a guest, and sort of been looking around, but never really joined in. So, I guess here I am. I've been told I write decent enough, but sort of spew out ideas and mix it together and call it good, so, we'll see where I go from here. **

**I like violent Beetlejuice. I shouldn't, considering I've seen abusers, violent people, and horrible boyfriends in real life, and see they aren't good for people, but…"Beej is just so nice how will I ever leave him. I know he can be a jerk that cheats on me and disregards all my feelings, but he can be a nice guy too." That my friends is an example of a victim who has no backbone, and sadly, I'm sure I would be her/him (guys are victims too) in that situation.**

**Um, story takes place with alternate meeting (ya know I love 'em) and alternate persona.**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Mistake**

Cold air swept through the bus and the patrons in it wrapped their hoodies, blankets, and wits tighter around them. It was a Thursday afternoon, the thirteenth of October, and frankly quite cold. The bus lacked all the elements of a regular school bus on a field trip. "Why?" you ask. Well, it lacked all elements of a regular school bus, because it lacked guys, noise, and was a private school bus for Miss Shannon's school for girls. Another reason the bus lacked all elements of a regular school bus was, because it was broken down. Stranded on the side of the road, the bus driver gone, and cold October air seeping into the very souls of the passengers.

The most prominent reason that would set this bus, and trip, from any other in the world, was because of the angry poltergeist...or perhaps demon, standing at the front of the bus, burning holes into anyone who dared make eye contact. Two others stood behind it, both as gruesome as the first. There was silence till it opened its mouth and its gravelly voice sent chills down the young girls shoulders.

"Who took it?"

Very slowly the girls' exchanged glances, and unanimously, they all pointed at the girl sitting alone. The girl sitting alone, because she did not belong. The girl that did nothing to cause this situation, except merely exist. That girl was Lydia Deetz.

…

Of course, the location of the field trip wasn't the best in the world for someone like Lydia Deetz. She was a beautiful young girl, that if she went to a regular school, would be part of the freshmen group, but she did not. Mainly, because her father's wife, her stepmother, would think it atrocious that she did not learn some manners and proper guidance from professionals. Her father was a businessman, and agreed with that woman, Delia Deetz, to stop wars.

"Can we move Charles, this countryside home is so far from civilization."

"Whatever you say Delia."

_Or._

"New York is absolutely stunning, but I need a new atmosphere."

"That's fine Delia, I got a new business deal that will move us out."

Her father's business was what Lydia supposed was a man that cheated people out of their money through selling them homes. He bought and sold them like crazy, but some prices were a little outrageous. Nevertheless, it put food on the table, and allowed Lydia to pursue her love of photography without money issues. Her Polaroid was no cheap thing, and believe it or not, she could consider herself rich, she just didn't. Unlike the other girls at Miss Shannon's

"My daddy plans on taking us sailing to the Caribbean's in yacht after our trip to Paris, and I was like, ugh, so boring, we've been to Paris like a million times." The blonde said, combing her hand through her hair.

"That's just so sad Claire."

"Like, I know. I want to go to like New York with my boyfriend." Claire said, fanning herself.

Lydia rolled her eyes, from where she stood waiting for the bus with the group of girls, more and more arriving every minute. They were taking a field trip to a theater in a bigger city to see some Opera. What Lydia really thought was they needed a horror opera. However, for most, this sounded exciting, but to Lydia it sounded like hell packed into a building. She did not want to have her ears bleeding for hours on end, while she tried to decipher whatever they were saying.

"Well look who it _is_," Came the snobby girl's voice. "I don't suppose you have any plans Deetz, like that would mean you come from like a family with money and aren't some goth prostitute." Claire's friends laughed.

Lydia ignored their comment, and took a deep breath. She didn't want another letter sent home, she was not going to start a fight.

"But we can't blame Deetz for her, like sins. We all know she got if from her like bitch of a mother, I _bet_ Lydia was a _mistake_ from her prostitute job."

Cold steely eyes met Claire's before a well aimed swing of a book-bag pushed her to the ground. Immediately, Claire began to wail like a tortured puppy, just in time for the bus driver and Miss Shannon's assistant to see. Fortunately, they didn't see the reason she was on the ground, but all the same helped her up, and assured her that her outfit wasn't ruined.

Taking a deep breath, Lydia steadied her backpack and boarded the bus, relieved that for once she didn't get in trouble. However, halfway down the aisle, she was stopped by Claire.

"Just you wait Deetz, I'm gonna, like get you back for this...later and you'll regret like every second of your existence there on out."

That had to be the strongest most hateful thing that Claire had ever said to Lydia, but like all the other times, Lydia blew it off as an empty threat. Only later on, she would find out it was a loaded threat that would get its ammunition from the trip. Mistakes aren't a learning experience—as many allegedly intelligent beings said—they are the knife through the heart that end us all.


	2. Museum

**Short chapters, and I know some of you don't like last chapter's content, but I'm playing with a bit a fire, so la, la, la, la.**

**Chapter 2: Museum **

The bus ride was unimportant, but mainly consisted of finding an empty seat somewhere in the middle of the bus, a tedious roll call, and hours of driving in which Lydia read some Edgar Allen Poe material, and dozed off. When she awoke, they were outside of a morbid museum in the middle of nowhere. Fog encircled the building, and the cawing of crows could be heard. As they exited the bus cold air met them the moment they stepped out, causing many of the students to huddle in groups of three or more, trying to stay warm.

Lydia did not have that luxury with Bertha at a funeral, and Prudence was sick. She was alone, and stuck putting up with Claire's snobbishness by herself. Looking around, Lydia noticed that this might not have been their planned stop. The teacher assistant—Miss Shannon was busy and couldn't leave the school, considering not everyone came—was examining a map with a look of befuddlement. The bus driver and her were conversing and pointing at places on the map, and then looking up at surrounding area.

Focusing her attention and ears on their conversation she could hear most of it, but a few words were dropped.

"...you sure?"

"...took a wrong turn…"

"No, maybe...don't know."

"...storm overhead...stay till it passes overhead...if not till mid-afternoon."

They had seemed to have made a decision. The assistant, Lydia thought her name might be Miss Helen, had rolled her shoulders back, and moved to stand in front of the girls. She let out a shrill whistle, catching the attention of the gathered students.

"Listen up!" She shouted. "For all of you who are curious, this is not our intended destination. Do not worry, we will just go inside till the storm clears up. If this bothers you, deal with it. Once we are sure how to get to our intended destination, we will." Miss Helen paused staring out over the students. "Till then, the sign claims this is a museum. Make good use of this and learn something new."

Some of the students merely shrugged, while others look outraged. Lydia was neither. The museum, actually, looked quite interesting. Shouldering her backpack, she followed Miss Helen and the group of girls up to the museum.

The old sign, that had told them it was a museum, also told them the name of this morbid place.

"Astro Museum."

That was an odd name for a museum, especially since it didn't look like an astrology museum. They generally had telescopes and other such things relating to that science. Lydia didn't know too much about that science, so she couldn't name any other things that related to stars, except constellations.

The museum had a set of large wooden doors, very dungeon like, with an old brass knocker. Oddly, the brass knocker was in the shape of a star with a snake wrapped around it. Hesitantly, Miss Helen lifted the knocker and pounded it against the door.

Eerily, there was the echoing sound of the pounding and not another sound was heard for a little while. Then suddenly, the door swung open. An elderly looking man opened the door and stared out at them. He regarded them warily, before opening the door a bit more.

"I suppose y'all want to visit the museum."

Miss Helen sighed, and pushed back her blonde hair. The frame of the college women getting her experience through assisting a teacher was tense, very tense. It was clear college did not cover what to do when stuck in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of teenagers students.

"Yes, we are lost and plan on waiting out the storm." She stated.

The man rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Figures, no one visits this museum on purpose. You can come in; make sure your students don't steal anything. There will be _con-se-quences._" The man dragged out the last word.

He opened the door completely, and stood back to let everyone in. Lydia was one of the last ones through the door. The old man eyed her and gave her a perverted grin.

"You especially, don't get near any of this stuff. Your kind aren't supposed to be near these kind of artifacts."

Thinking he might have meant something about her Gothic nature, she paused and gave him a curious look, feeling a bit angered, that he had said "your kind" like it was something nasty.

"What do you mean, 'my kind?'" She asked.

He pondered her question, before shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, is there a name for people who can see the dead?" He asked, closing the door behind her.

Lydia thought about what he said. How did this stranger know?

"No, but how do you know that I can see the dead?" Lydia questioned, feeling very spooked, but still a slight bit curious.

"Your attitude and eyes give it away. Back to former statement, don't get too close to any of the artifacts. I'm not sure if ya know this miss, but a lot of ghosts would take advantage of your ability, because you're easier to possess. Don't touch nothing." With that, the man disappeared down the hall to the right.

Questioning whether or not she should just turn around and pry open the bus doors to avoid any possible trouble that could exist in the museum, she decided to stay as she heard rain start pouring down.

A quick look around proved that her class had already split up to explore this museum. It, also, proved that there was many things to see, and many paths to get lost down. Since, the prospect of being possessed was not very appealing, she decided to just go down one hallway and hang out there.

With that plan in mind she set off down the hallway looking at the items in the museum with mild curiosity. They were all quite interesting really, but the warning from the owner kept her from looking at them from for too long. If he hadn't had told her that she would be possessed just simply by touching these items, then she would have lingered over the antique necklaces, old swords, and fascinating things from a castle.

According to the plaques she passed, it was the remains from during the black plague. It was of kings and queens, and lords and ladies. However, as she went farther down the hallway, it began to be the items of peasants and they were harder to ignore. As the poor they lacked a lot, but what they had were quite bewitching things.

A slightly torn dress with blood stains on it was encased in a glass case; it caught Lydia's attention right away.

_Unknown Peasant's Dress:_

_This dress is from a peasant girl, and a tale circle's around it. The dress of the young woman already says that this girl suffered a horrible death, that much is obvious. Much to the tale is unknown, except that this young woman was in love with someone who got into too much trouble. That man tried to keep the trouble away from her, but one day it spilled over and her bloody death was the result._

Lydia looked for more, but that was it. Rolling her eyes, she could already tell the tale was probably invented off the top of their head. Now that she thinks about it, could they have faked all of the stuff in this museum. Scanning some of the plaques, she found they were just as moronic. This must be a cheap scare museum. Yes, she decided. This was just full of fake items and the owner, that elderly man, was just trying to spook her.

With a smug expression set on her face, she continued down the hall, not as many items catching her eye anymore. Soon, she reached the end of the hall, and two doors led off to more strange destinations. One of those destinations, was a dusty room. The other, was another hallway. Lydia set off into the dusty room and sat against the wall. Maybe she could doze off in here for a while, just till her class left.

Leaning her head back against the wall, she closed her eyes just to open in them five seconds later.

A scuffing noise and a bunch of giggles were coming from the hallway. At first, she would assume it was Claire and her posse, but it was more...inhuman and male.

Turning her head towards the open doorway, she watched and waited for the scuffing noise and giggles to near. Eventually, they did and it was not who she expected it to be.

The man was dragging his feet, reading what appeared to be a journal—based on the binding—and giggling every once in a while. He also was ripping out pages, crumpling them up, and throwing them onto the floor.

Sitting farther up, she watched as he turned down into the hallway she had seen earlier and his feet, she realized, weren't quite touching the ground. Standing up, she brushed off her school uniform and went to follow the man. She followed the trail of papers when she could no longer see the man. Soon, she realized she didn't even know where she was or how she got there. Turning to see where the papers were she had been following, they were gone. The papers she was following were also gone, and soon she didn't even know where she was going.

"Like are you lost Deetz, or do you always look this, like stupid?"

Spinning around, Lydia saw Claire, and two of her friends. They were sneering at her, smiles like wolves. Deciding not to play the weak and defenseless girl, she smirked, glaring at them.

"In fact Claire, I am lost. Lost to why you and your friends have such low IQ scores with such _loving_ parents." She taunted them. Lydia knew it was foolish, but she did it anyway.

"Bitch!" Claire screeched, and lunged at her.

Lydia started to run, her feet flying across the ground. Claire and her two friends followed behind her, the pounding of their feet echoing off the walls. She went through hall after hall, doorway after doorway, turning this way and that, going down two flights of stairs, hoping to lose them when she tripped.

Jumping up from where she tripped, she saw that the offending object was a small tripwire connected to the door. Eyes widening in horror, she didn't even try to stop Claire from barreling into the room, the door closing behind her before her two friends could enter.

As the door slammed shut, the little dim light bulb overhead, blinked out, plunging the room in darkness.


End file.
